


The Price Of Ghost Drifting

by confettiinmyhair



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blindfolds, Collars, Dildos, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confettiinmyhair/pseuds/confettiinmyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is home early. Hermann has a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price Of Ghost Drifting

Home was a strange concept, when he sat and thought about it.  
  
He hadn’t even been here with any decent frequency in the past year - becoming a rockstar, so to speak, was actually one of the less-pleasant phases of his life so far.  
  
He wasn’t sure, most days, that he wouldn’t rather have the invasion back, but that thought?  
  
Well, you could have certain tattoos, and have your fame for a certain reason, and you could have spent such a chunk of your life studying something that was simply… not a problem anymore, and you still didn’t repeat thoughts like that out loud.   
  
And yet? The prospect of studying Earth creatures was now at best mildly boring.  
  
Home, though. He’d been at a conference on drift application for the better part of two weeks, and all he wanted was his futon and a nap. 

***

For as shrouded as the little house was in the local subtropical foliage, he’d made sure to have a few skylights built in, and as he drifted in and out of sleep, he watched the progress of the angle of the sunlight crawling along the floor and walls.

 

(For all the upper house’s light airiness, the basement was, of course, one of the heaviest-grade bunkers available - better structurally braced than the public shelter in Hong Kong by a long fucking shot, thanks. 

 

The builders had looked at him askance, and he’d rattled off for almost three minutes about the possibility of any creatures possessing the technology to create the rift in the first place always having the capability of building one anew had they survived the blast, and he’d ended up reminding them how much they were being paid.

 

He was allowed, at this level of global celebrity, to be paranoid (hopeful) (in constant, delicious dread) of the possibility that the Kaiju might return in his lifetime.)

 

***

 

The footsteps making their way downstairs brought him out of a half-dream about sampling an utter plethora of icecream flavors .

 

He’d have panicked if it weren’t for the accompanying noise of a cane.

 

He kept his eyes shut.

 

Home was a strange concept, but a good concept. Home was where the noises all made sense and he had the time to have really nice half-dreams.

 

“You jumped-up little shit. I thought you were supposed to be home next week,” Hermann groused.

 

Newt felt the end of the futon depress slightly, felt the trouser fabric against his toes.

 

“Yeah, and you were supposed to be gone until Thursday, so let’s not bitch about communication failures,” he volleyed back sleepily, pulling the throw blanket tighter around himself.

 

“Offend another conference chair?”

 

“Hardee-fucking-har.  _He_  hit  _me_ , remember?”

 

Newt heard something that sounded like a huff of laughter, and shrugged as well as he could, all things considered.

 

“Nah. I showed them hard, proven data as to why their theories were junk, gave the few decent apples a card to get ahold of the feds about jobs… no point in me sticking around after that.”

 

“Just as well, I suppose.”

 

“And speaking of kids playin’ hooky,” he started, finally cracking an eye, “what’re you doing home?”

 

“They pay me to run numbers. Once the numbers are run?” Hermann shrugged, allowing the gesture to finish his thought for him. 

 

Newt could imagine, beyond a doubt, that there was something new and wildly theoretical being fleshed out on the boards upstairs.

Hermann lived quietly, perhaps, but ‘idle’? Nah.

 

“Right.”

 

They were quiet again for a few minutes; Newt was still waking up, and Hermann looked like he’d been working all afternoon - not surprising, if he hadn’t even heard Newt come in earlier.

 

“Have you been upstairs at all?” Hermann finally asked.

 

“No, why?”

 

He could see just how relieved Hermann's nod was at the answer, and he raised his eyebrow.

 

“You got some cute young thing squirreled away up there I should know about?” Newt teased. Hermann slapped him on the ankle, but he was grinning back.

 

“Hardly. I just wanted to make sure the surprise wasn’t ruined. But! Dinner first.”

 

“Fuck you, thinking I’m gonna eat when you’re hiding something,” Newt scoffed, sitting up, making to swing his legs over the edge of the futon - 

 

\- and  _that_ was Hermann’s hand clenched just under his jaw very suddenly, and that was the man’s lips pressed just below his ear.

 

“I’ve been working since I woke up this morning, and if you don’t want me collapsing on you, we need to eat first.”

 

He let Newt go slowly, and grinned sweetly as he pulled away, bracing himself to stand.

 

“No dinner, no surprise.”

 

“That’s cold.”

 

Hermann merely blew a sarcastic little kiss over his shoulder as he made for the kitchen.

 

***

 

Not that he was complaining, but if Hermann thought that blindfolding him and telling him to keep his hands on the headboard counted as a  _surprise_ , he had another thing coming.

 

  
_Not_  that he was complaining.

 

He let Hermann move him, let himself groan at the collar being pulled around his throat, all without a word.

 

They’d been doing this long enough that he could appreciate that staying quiet through the man’s little preparations. It made everything that followed run far more smoothly.

 

“Open up,” Hermann finally said, tapping at his lips.

 

In the first instant, he thought it was a small, wide plug of some kind, oddly ridged, but as he felt the strap against his face, he knew it was some kind of gag.

 

It was a bit unusually long, only just scraped the back of his tongue, and he had to concentrate against the urge to choke.

 

“Bad?” Hermann asked.

 

After a moment, Newt shook his head slowly. Not bad - different, but not bad.

 

He was still on his side, and he felt Hermann press up behind him, hitch his leg up, felt him rubbing some kind of lube (something tingly and strange) down his ass and pressing against his hole - one teasing finger making him whimper, two fingers pressed all the way in, three and he couldn’t stop from trying to rut back despite the position… they made it to four, and he was on the verge of tears from it.

 

Something to be said for the tingly crap, he acknowledged, all too aware of how hard he was, so hard and close to coming he could feel the precome dripping from the head of his cock, and - 

 

and he absolutely  _whined_  as Hermann pulled his fingers away, nearly choking on the suggestive tickle of the gag. He went completely still at the hand that pushed up into his hair and tugged his head back just enough that he was trapped between the feeling of the gag at the back of his mouth and the noticeable press of the collar against his windpipe…

 

...but so help him, his hands were still clutched to the headboard.

 

“Should I keep going?” Hermann asked, quietly, right up against his ear, and it took Newt a long moment to figure out that he couldn’t simply nod, that he had no analogy to the safe-tap he could knock against the headboard to get him to  _stop_.

 

“Mmm? Mmm-hmm,” he managed to groan out slowly, emphasizing the second noise as clearly as possible.

 

“Good.”

 

There was a slow, steady press of - that certainly wasn’t Hermann - a dildo, oddly ridged, oddly pliable, the same way as the gag. It was larger than he was really used to taking, but god it felt - well.

 

The tingling of the lube wasn’t helping things, and he knew he wasn’t quite hard anymore, but it felt  _good_ … and oddly familiar?

 

He got lost in the feeling of being fucked into slowly, of gradually getting hard over it again, for as weird as it felt…

 

“Have you figured it out yet?”

 

With no real way to respond - fucking son of a bitch, he laughed in his mind - he simply kept moving as well as he could to meet the steady, shallow thrusts.

 

“I had it made  _just_  for you. I’ve been inside your mind… how many times, now? You think I don’t know what it felt like? What it feels like when you  _remember_?”

 

It took a moment, but Newt gasped through his nose as he realized.

 

Not ridges.

 

  
_Suction contacts_.

 

He’d felt something like this before, in his mind, in that first drift with the Kaiju mind, had felt it again, in some way, every time he’d brought himself off to the memory…

And here, he’d thought he’d gotten pretty good at blocking parts of the drift.

 

He’d gone still again, and he realized that Hermann was giving him the chance to back out.

 

Hell with that. He pushed back, as well as he could, and Hermann didn’t take his time acknowledging.

 

The short, shallow thrusts were over, given way to hard, deep fucking, pressing in at just the right angles, and it was too wide, and it hurt, and he had to hold his head just-so to keep from choking, but - 

 

\- but fucking christ hell, that grounding hand in his hair and the way it felt to be opened up like this? Maybe it wasn’t the cosmic existential crisis that’d come with the initial drift, but he could feel his body tensing, could feel himself groaning whorishly…

 

And as he came, harder than he could remember coming in  _years_ , he was tense, silent, and lost in a void inside his own head, if only for an instant.

 

Some minutes later, he was sinply laying there, breathing, keeping as still as possible as Hermann undid and removed the gag, only moving to finally flex his hands, breathing in deeply at the sensation of the blindfold being pulled off.

 

He rolled over slowly, dazed as he was, and looked Hermann straight in the eye.

 

“We should drift next time,” he said, quietly, to which the other man merely raised a suggestive eyebrow.

 

Newt nodded in response, moving his hands down to Hermann’s slacks to work the fly open as he pressed a rough kiss to his mouth. He felt Hermann's hands moving down his back, toying with the base of the dildo, and Newt shook his head as he pulled back.

 

“Leave it,” he insisted, shifting down the bed. “Please.”

 

The expression of smug condescension mixed with that little blush of lust was all he saw as he glanced up before he tugged Hermann’s pants down.

**Author's Note:**

> The original titling and summaries continue, huh?
> 
> A fossil exhumed from [the depths of my tumblr](http://hoverboardbandit.tumblr.com/post/55840543505), tidied up for my own peace of mind, and deposited here for preservationist purposes.


End file.
